The Witch, the Wolf and the Runaway
by neaira.awakened
Summary: Ten-year-old Daveth wanted to reach Denerim but finds himself lost and alone in Ostagar. He's as good as dead. Until a young witch finds him... Written for the Girl Saves Boy ficathon on LiveJournal.


Daveth crouched beneath the crumbling tower, shivering from head to toe. He reached into his little sack and pulled out the map he had drawn from memory, his brow furrowed. He must have missed a road somewhere along the way, he thought. He should have reached Lothering by now. But somehow he'd managed to end up at Ostagar. He'd lasted the first two nights without worrying himself too much. But now he was running out of food.

"Maybe if I turn back that way and try to find the main road," he said aloud for no particular reason. It had been days since he'd seen another person, and the sound of his voice was surprisingly calming, given the circumstances.

He squinted at the hastily scratched lines and frowned. The map was barely legible as it was, and now it was beginning to rain. The thin paper thirstily soaked up the raindrops and began to melt between his fingers. The boy felt his stomach drop and heave at the same time. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Maybe his pa was right. Maybe he _was _stupid and worthless. He was running away, but he couldn't even do that right. He pulled his ratty cloak around his shoulders and swallowed down a sob. He couldn't bring himself to cry. Not yet.

He took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaking beneath him. He adjusted the rain-soaked cloak around his shoulders and turned around in a circle, trying to figure out what way he had come from in the first place. He felt his stomach heave again as he realized he had no idea. He turned around again and groaned, kicking blindly at a chunk of stone on the ground. The stone was heavier than he was, and he cursed as a flash of pain shot through him.

And then he heard laughter.

He froze.

"H-hello?" he squeaked, and cursed himself again for sounding so childish.

Nothing.

"Hello?" he said again, forcing himself to sound stronger, bigger. A twig snapped somewhere nearby and he flinched uncontrollably. He forced himself to take in a breath slowly and turned around.

A small gray wolf was sitting near a tree, regarding him curiously with unnaturally yellow eyes. The wolf tipped its head upward and sniffed before cocking its head to the side.

"Maker's blood," he whispered, backing up slowly. "That's a good doggy…"

The wolf let out a noise that sounded oddly like a laugh. It stood up, stretching lazily, and took a few steps forward. Daveth stared helplessly as the beast approached, and glanced around looking for something he could use as a weapon. He hastily picked up a stick and held it out in front of him, the stick shaking violently in his grip.

"I haven't eaten in days," Daveth said in a voice a full pitch higher than usual. "You're better off finding a rabbit!"

The wolf made that odd laughing sound again and seemed to smirk at him, the yellow eyes never leaving his own. The wolf stopped moving and closed its eyes and the air seemed to vibrate. The wind picked up and leaves swirled around the beast began to glow.

And change.

Daveth's jaw dropped as he watched the wolf change from its original form into that of a young girl, probably no older than he was. Her black hair cascaded around her face in messy curls. The girl breathed deeply and slowly opened her eyes. Unnaturally yellow eyes.

"Fear not, brave traveler," the girl drawled with a smirk. "'Tis not _your_ life I seek."

Daveth screamed and scrambled backwards, tripping over that damned stone. His arms flailed wildly as he began to fall, but he never took his eyes off of the girl. He landed on his back with a thud and groaned as a fresh wave of pain jolted through his body.

The girl laughed. The same laugh he had heard before the wolf… _she_… came. Daveth gulped as she began to approach him.

"What is your name?" she asked, though it came out as more of a command. "What are you doing here?"

"You're a witch!" Daveth squeaked, feeling his cheeks flush.

"Such an astute observation," the girl rolled her eyes. "'Tis a wonder you got lost at all."

"I'm not lost," Daveth shot back nervously. "I know exactly where I am. I do! I just can't… get back… er… to the road."

The girl folded her arms across her chest and leaned against a tree. She frowned slightly as she looked him over. "What is your name?"

Daveth took in a breath. "Name's Daveth. I'm running away."

"From what, pray tell?"

"What do you care?"

"You have been cowering amidst ghosts for days," the girl looked away, tossing her hair to the side. "I am simply curious as to why."

Daveth sat up cautiously and scratched the back of his neck. "I'm running from my pa."

"Is he bad to you?" she asked softly, still looking away.

"You could say that." He pulled himself to his full height, sticking his chin out in defiance against the blow that wasn't going to come, his pa wasn't even _there_.

"And where will you go?" She seemed genuinely interested for reasons he did not understand, and he shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm going to Denerim, see," Daveth rambled. "I heard anyone can make it there, and I'm almost a man."

"Indeed." The girl looked at him once more and she almost smiled. "We do not have much time if you wish to reach the road before nightfall."

Daveth hesitated and glanced around nervously. "Why should I trust you? How do I know you're not going to boil me in a stew?"

The girl rolled her eyes again. "You are still alive, are you not? If I wanted you dead, I would have ripped out your throat before you knew I was here."

Daveth gulped and nodded slowly. He stood up, gathered his things, and fell in beside the girl. She was quite pretty, really, and maybe not so scary. Aside from the wolf thing, he thought. That was scary.

The girl led him through the ruins silently, her eyes darting from side to side. Every so often she would hold up a hand for him to stop and they would wait. But eventually, they would keep on moving.

Soon, they reached a clearing. The girl pointed to a large tree in the distance and nodded.

"Walk to the tree," she instructed. "The road will not be far."

Daveth grinned in spite of himself and took her hand in his own. The gesture shocked the girl, and now she was the one to stagger backward.

"I just want to thank you, is all," Daveth apologized. "I was as good as dead." He hesitated and met her eyes. "You never told me your name."

"My name is Morrigan, though it will be no use to you." Morrigan turned her head quickly and her eyes widened. She turned back to Daveth and hissed. "You must go. Now."

Daveth took the hint and began to run toward the tree. Once, he stopped and looked behind him to see if Morrigan was still standing there, watching. She was gone.

He reached the road later before nightfall, as she said he would, and some traders found him.

They fed him and despite his protests, did not turn around and head for Denerim. And under the light of the moon, Daveth slipped into his home and prayed that his pa was too drunk to notice he had been gone.


End file.
